


30 Angsts: Dinah Lance/Oliver Queen

by Merfilly



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-21
Packaged: 2017-12-06 02:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/730355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various ficlets of the downs in Dinah and Ollie's lives together and apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grell Era

All she sees when she looks at him is the shaking, wracked frame of the too thin boy she had barely known. She wants nothing more than to scream, and for him, that could very well be near fatal. He had no business, no sense in doing as he had done. If Hal had been one bit less conscientious, or fate had not cast the die so that Hal found the boy at all…

She knows Hal and Barry have already had their words over this with the archer. She can guess Batman did too; the Dark Knight has his own young sidekick after all. But none of this matters one whit as she walks up to Oliver Queen, and slaps him full across the face.

“If you ever screw up like this again….The League’s going to need two new members,” she tells him in the harshest tone she can without cuing her Cry. She then throws her arms around his waist, the tears falling fast and hard now that she can actually think about what they have been through, and what young Roy still faces. Though Ollie’s face stings, he closes his eyes and holds her tight, thankful it did not cost him her love entirely.

* * *

She couldn't wear sleeves that came tight at the wrists anymore. Shoes with straps that tightly went around the ankles were not allowed either. Her hairdresser had to use clipper anywhere the hair touched skin, as the cold metal was too chilling a reminder. The thought of a button down shirt made her tremble, and Ollie would want to pull her close.

He couldn't though. To do that he'd have to get close to her. And the fear in her eyes burns him just as much as it scares her.

He's convinced he killed the man too quickly, too mercifully.

* * *

From the first night he actually stayed with her, back in her small apartment, he had loved the way she slept. They would make love, and whichever way they ended, that was how she wanted to stay. Whether she was wrapped around him from below or above, he enjoyed the teddy bear treatment she gave him. Her arms wrapped around him, holding him close was a feeling of home, long before they officially moved in together. It meant she felt safe with him.

Which was half of why he felt like his heart had been cut out of his chest, as she moved away from him again…going to lie down on the couch, a look of fear and self-hate in her eyes.

He feared that she would never have that safety again.

* * *

Her first words to him had been of missing his birthday, and his heart broke for not being there to prevent it. He would have done anything to prevent the pain and suffering she underwent at the Slasher’s hands. As it was, he let his arrow speak that day, taking a man’s life when he could have saved her without such extremis.

Then, when she told him there would be no children, that she could never have them, even though she wanted to at last, his heart died inside him a little more. If only he had gone with his gut instinct, kept a closer eye on her as she worked her sting. He had let the bird fly alone, and now they both were broken inside. He had blood on his hands, and she had paid in body and soul.

Yet, looking at her in his arms, sobbing for the children they would never have, he knows, no matter how it has shaped him, he would not have aimed any differently.

* * *

He pulls against invisible bonds, his body flush and hot with fever. She cannot let him leave this life behind without a legacy, and she takes advantage of his feverish state. His body cannot tell the difference, as she successfully coaxes him to life, despite the fever. He gives himself to her, spilling the life bearing seed to fulfill her wish to preserve the legacy of the bow.

In his dreams, Dinah sings for him, and he calls her name, seeing only her in delirium.

Shado can only be moved by the love of his soul for the other woman.

* * *

He had dated her, and still seen a dozen socialites on the side, back in the early days, back when the masks stayed on, and a date was usually a foray in crime fighting. She had been his.

They moved in together and the socialites vanished. If his eye roved here and there, she forgave him for it; he was her man, but he was not dead. She noted a man now and then, always comparing them back to him, though.

When he vanished, hunted for things Eddie Fyres had lured him into, Dinah had to put the rose-colored glasses aside. She stood outside on the patio in the cool air, a robe hastily thrown over her negligee. In front of her was the woman, the one Oliver had spoken of. In some small part, Dinah owed the woman her own life, as well as Oliver’s.

The Asian with her tattoos and exotic garb was really quite beautiful to Dinah. And she shared the art of the bow, Oliver’s one true passion.

Now she also shared her blood with him, in the form of the small boy at the Asian’s side.

It was the first time Dinah had met her rival.

It was also the first time she knew her heart had broken, and would not heal.

* * *

He can still taste her on his lips. Even as his costume turns sodden and cold from the snow falling on it, he can feel her standing vibrantly close. The look in her eyes, the way her brow furrowed as she said the words to him. Words that he will never forget echo in his ears.

“I love you, Oliver.” She had kissed him, one last time, the kiss that lingers now, burning his lips. “Goodbye.” And the snow had fallen silently as he collapsed, unable to watch as the woman who was his soul walked out of his life.


	2. Dixon Era

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues, apart... to a point

Ollie was gone. The florist shop, gone. The bills kept rolling in, but the two things that made Seattle home were both gone. It still hurt, even though it had been her choice. All she had to do, was pick up the phone, she was sure, and she could track him down, put an end to her pain, his wandering. She sat there looking at it, eventually cradling it in her hand. The tears on her cheeks fell slowly, until she dialed the memorized number.

"Eddie, tell me how he is," she whispered. "Tell me how Oliver is now, please."

* * *

"It was her, the woman he holds in his heart?" Ollie paused, just outside the door to the room his friend was in. He, Eddie, and the boy, Connor were on the road, trying to settle a small drug running cartel too close to the ashram's influence. 

"Yeah, kid. She's a piece of work, I tell you. Kicks the man out of her life, doesn't look back where he can see, but she calls every now and then, got to hear how the old man is." The man outside the room heard a very long sigh from his hard-case friend. "I want to go up there and shake some damn sense in her head. If she's so damn in love with him, why won't she let me get him on the damn phone?!"

"Perhaps, friend, it is because she has learned that loving each other... just isn't enough, sometimes." Connor's words, spoken with the simplicity of his monastic life, shot through Ollie's very soul.

"It should be," he whispered to himself, turning away to be alone.

* * *

The explosion had been sudden, fiery, everything he could expect in a violent death, the only kind he thought he deserved. 

It had been over too quickly, he decided, as he lingered in this…limbo. Here, there was only cold, only the haunting thought that his hubris had ripped him out of the life he had pursued since his twenties.

But, the cold did not match what had haunted his soul. He had carried a black pit of endless cold, to match the snow that had fallen that day so long ago, yet so vividly near in his memory, even here, even in what was supposed to be the beginning of eternal rest.

Death could not obliterate the loss of her, nor take away that cold.

* * *

It was a simple toy. Made of plastic. Not even a great resemblance to the man she had known. And yet…her hand shook as she reached out to pick it up. Maybe if it were not New Year’s, she thought poignantly. She brushed irritably at the tear in the corner of her eye. She set the toy back down, resolving to ignore the impulse; she had so many things that reminded her of him. Things that reminded her of the last New Year they had shared. A party, a stolen kiss, a reunion.

And then she had left him. The first tear on her glove was joined by another.

He had been killed since then. 

There were no chances to make it up, to fix that which had been broken between them.

Her hand strayed back to the figure, and when she left the store, it was with her.

* * *

Canary fingered the old photos, completely lost in her reverie of what had been. She had a bottle of wine, and the candles were lit, as she remembered his birthday. The pictures chronicled so many years…from the first time she dared take her mother’s wig and bike all the way to the present, working for an unseen, all knowing, benefactress. It was the ones in the middle, the ones that had him that kept her mind occupied tonight. She traced his face with a fingertip, averting her face so the tear she shed would not fall on the pages. There he was, in all his exuberant, liberal, stubborn pride, smiling like the world was his. And it had been, or so she thought. She had left her world, the world she grew up in, to follow his dream of being a common man’s hero.

He threw it away, let her puff away into a nothingness type of existence, just so much steam drifting through his life. He had carried the girl away, but the woman had been unable to stay. She had run away from the wreck in progress, escaping into their bland life as she tried to rediscover herself. And now, she knew he had still carried her away again, this time to a place she could not yet follow.

“Happy Birthday, Ollie…I just wish you were here still.” Her voice cracked some, as her hand rested on the photo of Roy holding her close, in front of Oliver Queen’s gravestone.

* * *

He's not anything she can admire, not in the long run. Yes, he is power and perfection of form when he fights, always just where he needs to be and with the right thrust. He's far too intelligent to dismiss, and he makes a strong ally when he's committed to the same cause, no matter the motivation.

The strength in his arms, in his chest…his entire body is something she could be addicted to. As her hand tangles in his hair, other one tracing the faint scars on his skin, she knows without a doubt she should not have ever begun this. Regardless that they work together now…

That he's saved her in the past…

Or that right now, the dangers past but rescue still an hour away, he's making her body burn and slaking it all in one with his.

No, she really can't admire him, no matter how perfectly older than she he is…or how he seems to know just how to spar with her, both here and in the field, or just in words.

But she needed someone, and let that someone be him.

And in the back of her mind, he's got blond, not white hair…and there's no patch to mar the features…

She's guilty of having sex with a mass murderer; she might as well imagine he's the man she can never have again.

* * *

He's a complete gentleman. He is so very intelligent, which sets him well above most standards she's kept to in her dating. No man has come so close to curing her…

Her brain shies from there as she focuses on his mouth. He has been so patient with her, trying to move from teammate and friend into more. And yet she still feels more affection for his owl than the man himself. She tries one more time, moving closer to him, capturing those sensuous lips with her own…

…and she can only cry inside when she yearns still for Ollie.


	3. Resurrection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's return brought ups and downs.

So many thoughts and emotions, tumbling in the turmoil that is my mind. I want to step back, I want to push away, run back to Barbara and sob over ice cream about how wrong it is, to have your heart ripped from your chest and thrown into the blender. It is nothing but cosmic injustice that I lost him before I ever found a way to make us work the right way. But right now, staring at him with Roy so near, knowing how close I am to collapse, I can't help but hate every power that is for making me face him alive again.

I know how grateful I should be, but that fear has swept up around me. I'm consumed by him, the greatest (only) love of my life. I stare at him with weak knees, wanting only to throw myself in his arms and let the past rest in peace. Roy takes a hesitant half step forward, seeing my hesitation mirrored by Ollie's incredulous surprise at hearing my voice. 

Then he is right there, holding me, his broad shoulders under my hands, his mouth on mine. He knows me better than any man, almost any person, on this planet as he drives the kiss into that level of passion that let me ignore the problems for so long. I can barely stay up, clinging to him with tears forming and my head spinning, drinking in his scent, his feel, his taste.

Parting from him, I look up into those green eyes, seeing a man I lost (gave up) far too long ago. I want to believe in the love he is pouring out in waves. I want to finish the case, get him somewhere and lose my body in his touch.

Then I feel Roy's eyes on me, Batman's, and it is a cool reminder we can't step back. They both know, know what Ollie and I had, and what we destroyed. They're waiting for me to decide, even as we move on to the case at hand.

It's Batman, I think, who sees how lost I am, driven by the impulse of desire and emotion. I've looked to his 'family' for too long now to not know his gaze is snapping caution at me. I'm afraid Batman is right to doubt Ollie and I can make it.

After all, I don't believe we can either.

* * *

She brought up names, throwing them down almost like gauntlets. He watched her face, seeing how each name caused her so much anger, so much pain, and all he wanted to do was reach out, hold her, cherish her. She was holding him back, not letting him get close, despite the love that had flowed in their reunion kiss.

Then his soul was reunited, and that younger self wished he could kick the elder to the far corners of hell.

He had wounded his Pretty Bird. Somehow, he did not think he could just kiss it all away this time.

* * *

He takes the latest clippings from Mia, looks over them casually. Soft pride glows in his eyes, seeing all that his Pretty Bird has done since he died. Throwing herself into work seems to have really agreed with her, given her the strength to move on. He starts placing the clippings in their places in the album he's making, working steadily until a smaller one falls out. His glance at it makes his hand shake, as he picks it up. It's a social column piece, and that is his Pretty Bird kissing Doctor Midnite. His head drops in fresh grief as he glances at the picture again. How can he invade that happiness, when all he ever brought her were broken promises?

* * *

She had a tradition. It had begun when she was young, a way to show her broken heart without making a fuss over it. It had always earned her a trip out with her father, and a softer side from her mother for a few days. All she had to do was go to the exotics cooler, and pull one black rose out, trim it carefully, and set it in her bud vase.

Over the years, those black roses had come and gone. Whenever a new man came along, the old rose went in a memory box, having been dried carefully by the attentive florist in her.

Then Oliver Queen had stridden in to her life, and the time for those memory boxes was over. She knew he was the one for her, forever and always. He was so open, so free with his mind and spirit, a firm believer in making things right. His good looks had been but the beginning, and she had tumbled head over heels.

Now, Dinah looks again at the boxes of roses, moving one more time from Gotham to Metropolis, and sighs sadly. The ones from her troubled teens are but a small fraction of those from her years at Ollie’s side.

* * *

She can still remember his body…from before the toll that Seattle took on him, and after. It pleases her on a primal level to find him as he had been in Star City, barely marked by the life he had led with his bow leading the way. But she is unprepared for the way he reacts as she slips out of the short black dress.

His whispered 'oh god' makes her turn in the moonlight, just in time to see him turn on the small lamp. With a trembling hand, he reaches out, pulling her close, his eyes moving over her inch by inch, and she slowly realized what it is he sees when he looks at her that way, or rather, what he can't see any longer.

Tears come to his eyes as he leans forward, kissing her throat, kissing her just to the side of one breast, moving down, slowly covering every bit of her torso, her wrists, until she is weeping as well. She had known he bore the weight of what had happened.

She just had never realized how much her scars had marked his soul, until she no longer had them.

* * *

Ollie smiled and laughed as he listened to Connor and Dinah, the one quietly reserved, and the other brightly bouncing, tell the story of how they came to work together, with Shado of all people, in Tokyo. The way Dinah spoke of Shado implied a continued interest in the bow mistress's welfare, and that had caught him off guard. He was not prepared for the answer to what he had thought an innocent question.

"How did you two finally meet?"

All animation drained from his lover, and Connor looked…vaguely uneasy, which was tantamount to the world crumbling around him.

"It doesn’t matter, Ollie; we became great friends," Dinah told the archer, but she was hugging herself tightly.

"Pretty Bird?" he pressed, but she stood from the couch, walking out of the room in haste, her face averted from his. "Connor?" Now his voice was real low, as he envisioned identity problems, thinking his Pretty Bird had challenged his son for being an impostor to the name.

"I was the one to tell her." Connor would not look at his father, too uncomfortable. "Eddie…told me where to find her."

"Told her what…." It sank in slowly. "Oh my god…but she would not have known you! Why didn't one of our friends…"

"She was isolated from them." Connor's voice was strained. "And she recognized me as your son, moments after I told her."

Ollie considered that double blow, of learning he was dead, and that there had been a hidden son. He looked the way his lover had gone, but he just did not know what to say that could ease the flicking, raw hurt he had unwittingly reminded her of.

* * *

He reached her too late, saw the horror of what Drakon had done to his life. A passing interest, a straying from the woman he loved, and now he had to tell a friend that his kinswoman had died.

Black Lightning would never understand how it happened on his watch.

But, preying through his mind over and over was the insidious image of his true love, hung the same way, the blush of life gone from her.

If people were that eager to hurt him, he would have to hurt her first, push her out of his life.

They might not have a future, but she would never die because of him, that way.

* * *

Dinah knows. She recognizes all the signs. She might not know whom for certain, but he's slept with someone. And he won't tell her, won't try to make things right.

"You won't fight for us. Not now. Oliver…I swear to almighty God…I can't keep doing this with you." She stares at him, closing his eyes from her words and it feels like that New Year, all over, in the snow. "I won't."

"Then you better go." He says it in the most flat tone he can, guilt wracking him not only for the affair, but the death too. He can't tell her, tell his Pretty Bird just how badly he messed up their lives, the life of a promising young woman. He even sees it, sees he's pushed her too far, but he doesn't duck. If she knew about Joanna, she'd feel the guilt too, and try to help him through it, but he needs to carry this burden, as much as he has to shoulder the burden of Mia's first kill. When Dinah lands her punch, he feels his teeth literally rattle, and the blood flow. He deserves every bit of it, and he wants her far away from his cursed existence. 

She turns away before he even gets to his knees. The way she flees the training room, he knows she's crying. The impulse to comfort her is there, but he strangles it down.

He is beyond tears this time, as she walks out of his life for probably the last time.

* * *

He had heard the woman he loved had tangled, again, with one of the most ruthless mercenaries in the business. He had honestly just thought to check in on her, to see if she was okay…

…so he was not prepared to see the self-same man perched on the window sill of her apartment, while she knelt beside it, inside, looking up at him.

Ollie felt rage boil up, started to unlimber his bow.

And then she reached up and touched the man's hand, in a way that was too familiar, too 'are you okay?' in the body language of Dinah Lance.

All he could do then was leave, shattered that she could ever give any kind of compassion to that monster.

* * *

She wanted to scream at him. She remembered what Manchester Black had done, from reading those files. And now, the man she loved more than life was going to follow Black's sister, on a team of loose cannons, barring Wally, and maybe even him, the way things had been. He truly deserved to have his ass handed to him so maybe he would use his brain to think. The covert spooky missions of the CIA should have told him better.

Then she saw him with his own team, while they were undercover, working one of those nasty drug/slavery/prostitution rings that the League proper could not get rid of.

And she saw Ollie with their mage, and the mage's wife. She was quite glad they had not spotted her, in her own undercover position, working an angle for Oracle.

She just felt sick in her guts that the mage did not see what she did.

And she wished again, Oliver could have been happy with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue directly from the comics in one snippet.


	4. New Chances Missed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post One Year Later, can they find the way?

She wears a wig, much as she did when she lived here. The city is in sad shape, but as she watches the man on the steps, she has faith it will not remain so. Her eyes scan automatically for any trouble; she wants today to be perfect for him, as the justice swears him in. She is near enough to see the energy, the vitality that grips her long time lover as he promises to rebuild, and to tear down the wall. She is confident that her wig, her glasses, and the lifts in her boots are all she needs to hide from him, but she could not imagine letting this day go unobserved. For all they have suffered and shared, he will always be the one love in her heart that never ends.

As the ceremony ends, she turns into the crowd to go, eschewing the meet and greet afterwards.

She does not see his eyes on her, full of sorrow that she had not been at his side, for no disguise can blind him to his soulmate.

* * *

"Yes, Dinah, I'll handle it. Don't worry about it." He kept his voice light and controlled the strong emotions he felt. "Be safe, pretty bird." His hand, so accustomed to the feel of a bow in it, reached out and careful set the phone on its charging dock. Carefully not upsetting any of his countermeasures rigged into his desk, he turned the chair toward the wall where his official award of the mayor-ship hung. He brought his hand up to rub at the back of his neck as he considered the calls he now needed to make, and why.

His ex-lover, the woman he had asked to marry him so long ago in another lifetime, had called to ask him for a favor. Not just any favor, and Ollie knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that if Roy still had the government connections she would not have asked this of him.

("I can't bring a child into this world, Oliver. I won't make an orphan.") The words had stung then; now, they tasted bitter.

("Ollie, I'm so sorry...there's not going to be a baby.") He had been so high on life when she decided to have his child, only to come crashing down in the face of his failure to save her in time. Her ability to bear his children, gone in the madness of a sick man's torture of his pretty bird.

Somewhere in Vietnam, the woman he loved had found it in herself to take a child in. She was going to raise this child, without him. Worse, she had needed his help to make it happen.

The blonde man had to choke back a growl of frustration, having seen in his mind's eye all that he would never have. He had seen the boys and girls that should have been theirs, had tasted the birthday cakes, laughed at the Christmas mishaps, and loved the future he should have built with Dinah Lance.

She would know the sound of a child's laughter in her life now, and all Ollie had were his memories and his broken imaginings.

* * *

Dinah saw Rhosyn out, and then made sure to lock the doors, pulling the shades. It still felt odd, to have the flower shop here, not Gotham. (Not Seattle, not Star…) She glanced at the stairs leading up to the apartment, pleased that Sin had settled in so quickly. The girl was already in bed, sleeping off a hard day of playing in the park. 

 

She walked over to the register, made sure she had cleared it to the safe, before picking up the day's ledger. Barbara had offered her a fully computerized shop, as far as accounting went, but Barbara did not understand that doing the books, looking at the lives that crossed through her store in what they bought and why, was one of the things she loved about being a floral designer. It was part of why, no matter how active she got with the League, she had tried to keep at least a partial hand in a flower shop, wherever she lived.

She thought over her recent conversations with Barbara, with Helena. It was hurting her, to face the thought of motherhood, and the concept that she owed it to Sin to lay down the role of Black Canary. Her own mother had been far less active after her birth than before; she knew that from Ted and Jay and Alan.

The business was already thriving. She had a sneaking suspicion that might have something to do with the fact she had full-page ads running in the Daily Planet…not her doing, and she suspected either a redhead or a certain mild mannered reporter. It would be so simple to just be here, to be Dinah Lance, mother of Sin, and rising florist to Metropolis….

Except he wasn't here.

Her fingers traced over the lettering of her shop's name on a business card. She tried to keep her sniffles quiet; it would not do for her to fall to pieces like this….

She reached for the phone, wanting to hear him, to tell him how she missed him, how she wished he could…

She'd dialed the first three numbers when she realized what she'd done, and the phone just fell from her fingers, before she laid her head on the counter, surrounded by the scent of her flowers, and cried herself past the pain.

* * *

Something told Mayor Queen he should not answer the phone, but he put it off to his healthy sense of paranoia. After all he had survived Deathstroke the Terminator trying to assassinate him with extreme prejudice; a phone call would be a walk in the park.

Even if it was showing as Harper, Roy on the Caller ID panel.

Even if he and his former protégé had not really talked since the Battle. Since Roy had been lying at the feet of Doomsday, and Ollie had stood his ground, arrow notched and locked on the behemoth.

Surely it could not be that bad.

"Hey there, Roy!" Throw a hearty tone at the kid…no, young man; maybe that would keep things civil.

"Ollie." That voice so torn and twisted, Ollie's heart immediately lurched. He felt the load of guilt press down; since coming back he simply had not had time to reconnect with the son of his heart, his spirit.

"Something wrong, son?" he asked more seriously. 

"Why the hell didn't you go to her? She's going to fucking quit!" Roy only spoke of one woman with that tone, the tone of seeing his own heroes fall. "Why do you have to be such an asshole all the damn time?!"

"Whoa, son; whatever she says I've done or not done…hell, Roy, I haven't seen her since the memorial!" Ollie defended, temper flaring. He could not imagine what Roy meant. "She called me out of the blue a month ago, asking me to help her get some kid into the States…wait, did you say quit?" Ollie felt his world tumble around him, remembering the whirlwind days of Seattle, how they had both tried to live normally, confining their vigilantism to the neighborhoods around them.

"Yeah. She's been talking about it to her teammates, and Gypsy passed it on to J'onn, who told Alan that she might need checking in on, which Kyle heard, and told Connor… dammit, Ollie, why the hell did you not stay with her after the memorial? You were that close to having her back…the best damn thing to ever happen to you and you just…."

"Roy…you know what happened, here at home," Ollie began.

"Don't give me that shit! You're telling me a fucking year goes by and not once did it cross your mind to let HER know you were alive?! I understand me, Ollie…you've done it to me all my damned life, but her?!"

"Now wait a god damned minute, Roy! She made it damn clear to me that we were not an item, would never be an item again…"

"It's the Sherwood Florist." Roy's voice cut hard across Ollie's angry retort. The blonde man sagged into his chair, a catch in his throat as his chest got tight. "She's opened the Sherwood Florist."

"Are you certain? She wouldn't…"

"It is. And you know good and damn well what that means, Ollie." Roy paused. "Or to use her words, pull your head out of your ass Oliver Queen and see what's in front of your nose." The line went dead with a resounding click, leaving the Mayor of Star City an emotional wreck on two fronts. 

It took him almost ten minutes. Ten minutes to control his breathing, to let the pain in his chest ease. Ten minutes of staring at the phone, and slowly pulling out the number he kept under it. When he punched the number in, he added the caller ID block. He was not going to face the idea of her not answering because it was him.

"Hello...I mean, Sherwood Florist…yeah, Dinah I got it…"

Hal's voice. Answering his Pretty Bird's phone…and she was laughing, in the background. He could hear it, hear how rich it sounded. 

Ollie set the phone back in its cradle, as all his words failed him.

* * *

I can't help but study her, watch the nerves come to the surface, as I bring her to the home of her long time lover, my friend's home in Star City. It is so obvious to me she still loves him, the way she flexes and closes her hands as she makes small talk about him. Then she might as well wave a red flag on her nerves, admitting how awkward it is going to be, just as he opens the door. The chemistry is still there, as she draws in a breath, her eyes roving him with a needful, hungry manner.

He glances at me, checking to be sure I'm not compromising his hard made secret identity, but then his eyes turn to her, feasting on the hard curves, long lines, and simple beauty that snared his heart so long ago. We were all little more than kids then, except for him, but she had been the baby. A feisty babe with a left that could lay out me or Barry, and had landed on Ollie more than once.

It had been love at first sight, I firmly believe, no matter how long it took before she let him come calling on her.

I can see her face, when I tell him we're their for his boy…their son. Roy might not have come from either of their bloods, but Ollie had been his father, and Dinah…from the minute I dropped the kid off to her in his worst hour, they had bonded thicker than any blood could have given. So, even in her pride to see her boy being accepted as the hero he is, her face shows the pain that Ollie feels. She mirrors that disappointment, has a trace of yearning for the days when his arrows streaked over her Cry.

I want to kick them both in the ass for letting each other drive so many wedges into what had been the perfect union. I can't even begin to see where to crack the careful wall they've built to keep one another at a distance. The whole time we're there, they don't speak directly to one another. Dinah is too quiet, and Ollie…he focuses on Roy. I catch his pride in the boy, even if Roy can't quite hear it. But I feel when we leave, that he only has eyes for his Pretty Bird.

Later, checking in on Ollie, I make sure to watch Dinah again. She seems more composed, more able to maintain her façade of not being in love, until Roy makes a wise crack. I can almost feel hope, as she defends Ollie, telling Roy how proud he really is.

But she makes me tell him we're fine, and I know, no matter how much I want my friends back in one another's lives, no matter how they drive one another in their hearts, they won't let it happen.

Makes this sky jockey wish love worked a whole lot simpler.

* * *

Roy was upset that Dinah had not come inside as they finished another bone crunching mission…he knew she had injured her arm, maybe her ribs, but she stayed close to Hal and waved good bye with the other hand. The archer had no choice but to trust Hal to knock some sense in her head as he went inside, glad it was not too late. Maybe his baby girl was still awake.

"…s'posed to live happy ever after, Gran'pa," Lian was saying as he neared the door.

"Not all 'once upon a times' get to, Lian." He could hear Ollie gave her a hug. "Hey, kiddo, don't count this one as ended yet. Your aunty Dinah and me…we hit rough times. Maybe there's hope."

Roy winced with every ounce of his soul at that hope in Ollie's voice, wishing to every god that Dinah had come in, that she could have been here to hear the love.

For once, Dinah was not where Roy needed her to be, though.

* * *

They said the earth represented a truly solid person. That would have to be Connor.

Metal was sharp, rigid when necessary, malleable under certain stresses. He knew without doubt, that was Roy.

Wood, the element of dependability, was nearly as easy as the boys had been to identify. Hal had always had his back, until they had not been there for him, and the wood splintered.

Without doubt, the beautiful and changing but constant presence of energy that was Mia had to be the water in Ollie's life.

All four of these elements were clearly part of the make up of his soul, of his life now.

He only lacked his fire.

She was gone, cut from his life by his own actions, holding herself in a mesmerizing dance on the outer edges of his life. He had not idea, either, how to convince her to bring her flames back to warm their lives together.

* * *

She gasps, crying out his name, feeling the way he feels so perfect within her. He rumbles, deep in his throat, so close to that point of no return, lost in the pleasure that she is to him. His beard scratches at her chest as he kisses her between the breasts thrusting toward him. It's enough, a reminder of all they've ever shared happily to carry her over, and take him with her. He whispers his love to her.

She has to turn her face aside, tears of knowing he'll betray her there on her cheeks as they both recover.

* * *

She moves like silk over smooth skin, no hesitation, no flaw that he can see. This woman is a creature of War, her body honed to the perfection of a sharp blade and set loose in the hands of a master. He cannot help but admire her like a piece of art, with texture and lighting that ripples every time she shifts.

And when he holds her after the fight, he wants to weep for her, as he recognizes her internal war over her own skill.

She is a hero, and yet she has chosen the tools of an assassin.


	5. Finale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kingdom Come

A violent red flare in the sky, distant but too close. It was the end, and she could not reach him. There lives, spent together and apart, doomed to end with a battlefield between them. Her tears came thick and hard, for that injustice, rather than for the round that had taken her mobility from her.

Then he was there, pressing her close, the tear on his face for this final embrace as he faced their death from the sky. She closed her own eyes, tears mingling with his clothing as the blast struck to fuse them for all eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the book to get a better view of the deaths


End file.
